Castiel waited on the porch steps. The cold night air chilled him to the bone, but he was determined to sit there resolutely and wait for Dean. The large moon was full above his head and he turned his face towards it, watching the reflected light of the sun casting shadows over the earth. He sighed slowly, wrapping his arms around himself and clenching and unclenching his hands to keep the feeling in his fingers. He would wait forever if he had to. Just after midnight, he was roused from his thoughts at the sound of a distant car and headlights shining at the house. He pushed himself up, his joints clicking and protesting at the sudden movement. The impala drew closer and Castiel watched as Dean parked and killed the engine. He waited for him to get out. A full ten minutes later, Dean stepped out of the car and slammed the door, heading towards the house. There was something off about his walk, Castiel chalked it up to him being angry about before. When he was within earshot, Castiel spoke his rehearsed words.
"Dean. I want to apologise for before, I should have listened to you and after a few hours of thinking, I understand." He looked at Dean tenderly. "The blade is like an angels grace. You're not the same without it, and you can't really decide if you like having it once you've sampled life without it. I get that. I do."
Dean stopped and looked at him for a moment and then walked past him into the house, his expression unreadable. He was carrying a brown paper bag. Castiel frowned and followed him inside.
"What I'm trying to say is that we're kind of going through the same thing, and if you need to talk I..."
He trailed off, watching Dean take a couple of bottles of whiskey out the bag. He put one away and opened the other. Holding the neck, he brought the bottle to his lips and drank heavily. Cas rushed forwards, grabbing the bottle.
"Dean! What are you doing?" He couldn't contain his disappointed.
Dean turned on him, squaring his shoulder and towered over Cas, suddenly seeming even taller. "Having a drink. What does it look like?" He snatched the bottle off him and drank again as he walked towards the stairs.
"Dean, stop! Talk to me, tell me what's going on."
Dean laughed ironically. "You really want to know?"
Castiel nodded.
"When I was four years old... I thought I did something wrong; like real bad, and that's why mum died... I thought it was my fault and I was being punished for it. Then Sammy left, and it was just me and Dad. And then Dad left as well." He shook his head, the smile he had on his lips was a familiar and unwelcome sight. "I finally realised both my parents died in that night in the fire... I was just clinging to the idea of a family that I can never have. I still am." He drank again. "I bet you're happy you asked."
"What a load of crap." Castiel squared his jaw, narrowing his eyes at him.
"Excuse me?"
"None of that was your fault, Dean. None of it." He walked closer to him. "When are you going to realise you have a family. It's right here, waiting for you to wake up and see it."
Dean looked at him for a moment and then rolled his eyes. "You know what? Blow me, Cas." He turned and started up the stairs.
Castiel leant on the banister. "I'd rather have you... cursed or not."
Dean froze.
"Remember?"
He sighed, looking at him over his shoulder. "Stop trying to save me Cas. Not everyone is meant to be saved."
"I will never stop trying. I will never stop."
Dean spun back around, angrily, walking back down the steps. "Why the hell not? Why are you even here? I didn't ask you to come in the first place. Did Sam send you to spy on me?"
"What? No-"
"Then why? Why do you care so much about me?"
Castiel didn't say anything, he just stared at him. His heart pounded against his rib cage. "I... I... Because I-"
"What, Cas? You need someone to protect you now? That it? You gave your grace to Metatron and then killed another angel just because you couldn't live without it and now that's burned away, you need your house trained demon to do all the smiting for you?"
"I did what I had too, Dean. You know that." He clenched his teeth, his own anger building up.
"And what was it all for, Cas? What's this all for?" He laughed desperately, becoming slightly hysterical. "Daddy's approval? Well I got news for you, princess. Daddy ain't coming back, he couldn't give two shits about you. Why should he? You're just another Lucifer waiting to happen."
Castiel had punched Dean in the face before he realised his hand had made a fist. Clearly Dean hadn't been expecting it either as he reeled, the whiskey bottle smashing on the floor. Dean straightened back up, looking at Castiel with pitch black eyes. Castiel's anger was shocked out of him, he took a startled step back, looking at him in horror.
"Dean, I-I-I I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"
Dean raised a hand to silence him. "Yes you did. Get out of here, Cas. You won't enjoy what happens if you don't... unfortunately for you, I would." There was the same malicious glint in his fathomless eyes as there had been a year ago. Castiel knew he had no choice, his mortal body wouldn't survive the attack. He ran out the house.
Dean watched him go and then looked at the spilled alcohol on the floor. He tutted. "Such a waste." He took his phone out of his pocket, dialling a number.
"I'm in." after a pause he added, "Bring whiskey." and then hung up.
Crowley hung up the phone and grinned to himself. His grin turned into a chuckle.
"Oh, it's good to be king."